


Recipe for Failure

by limenitis_arthemis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, Failwolf Friday, Humor, M/M, Shower Sex, Stairs, Top Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:51:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limenitis_arthemis/pseuds/limenitis_arthemis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek takes Stiles back to his loft for their first time being intimate together, he confesses an unusual disability.  He also encounters some difficulties in the kitchen and then in the bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recipe for Failure

**Author's Note:**

> Failwolf Friday contribution inspired by various tumblr posts about Derek’s new spiral staircase and Hoechlin’s appearance in the opening credits.

After years of sexual attraction and several months of misinterpreted attempts at wooing, Derek can’t believe that they’re finally here, in his loft, together. That Stiles really wants to be with him. That he’s going to get to touch him in all the ways he’s been dreaming about. That he’ll finally get to feel those fingers and that mouth on his body.

Derek is intent on stripping off his own clothes, and then peeling off Stiles many layers. He focuses on the sight of Stiles’ naked body, not really listening to him talk. Stiles doesn’t actually ramble most of the time, But his nerves seem to be making him chatter more than usual.

Derek pushes him onto the mattress and finally tunes into what Stiles is saying.

“So. This is it. Derek Hale’s bed of debauchery.”

Derek scowls at Stiles.

“What? What are you looking at me like that for?”

“It’s not a ‘bed of debauchery.’” Derek grumbles. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Wait what? Hold up? Never done what before? I know you’re not a virgin, so don’t even try.”

“No, Stiles, not that. The being in bed together part.” Stiles looks at him incredulously.

“With Kate it was always in her car or the boys locker room or my parents basement.” Derek’s face darkens at the thought, but he pushes on. “And then in New York, honestly, I pretty much never made it past bar bathrooms and back alleys.”

“Thank you so much for the lovely reminder of your ‘reclaiming my sexual agency’ phase. You sure are lucky that werewolves can’t carry diseases.” Stiles tone is teasing and casual but his face is a twisted mixture of jealousy and arrrousal at the thought of Derek having sex with random strangers.

Derek looks like he doesn’t want to continue so Stiles fills in the next part of the story for him.

“And then there was the period where you shuffled between the burnt out shell of your family home and an abandoned subway station like a damn hobo. A super sexy hobo with perfect hair and a leather jacket and a sports car, but still pretty much a hobo. So not really able to host then.”

“I was also a little too busy to be dating; you know, with the trying not to die. And trying to help Scott not to die. And saving your butt.”

“Saving my butt? Yeah right, you know I am up by three in the ass-saving tally. But back to the point! What about last year? I know you had people over here. Danny told me he almost answered one of your Craiglist ads before he realized that it was you.”

“I couldn’t bring them up here.” Derek admits.

“Some sort of territorial thing? Is this like, your den, Sourwolf?”

“I told you not to call me that Stiles. Anyway, no, it’s not a territorial thing. It’s just that I cmntwmlkmpstmmrs.” Derek winces his way through his half-mumbled confession.

“Um, sorry. Didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

“I can’t walk up stairs! Are you happy now Stiles. You dragged it out of me. I don’t know how to use stairs.” Derek wants to bury his face in his hands but forces himself to keep his head up and maintain eye contact. He is the alpha.

“Is that why you leapt up to rafters and swung your way over here? I thought you were just showing off. You know your whole ‘make a dramatic entrance’ shtick.”

“No. Well, yes I was hoping you would think it was cool. But I really can’t use the stairs. And no one else that I’ve been with could know that I was a werewolf so-“

“So you had to just keep them downstairs.” Stiles can’t decide if he wants to think about that for inspiration or if it will be too painful.

“Yeah, well most of the time people are pretty happy to leave after they’ve gotten what they wanted anyway. Not that I’m really a ‘sleepover’ type of guy myself.”

As Derek’s last words sink in, Stiles forces himself to accept the implications. “Right, of course. Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll get right out of your way as soon as we’re done here.”

“Stiles. I bought pancake mix.” Derek says with just a hint of panic in his voice at Stiles’ mistaken assumption.

“That’s cool I guess. Is this you trying to change the subject so that I don’t start crying when I realize how I am so much more into you than you are into me? Because it’s cool. I promise not to cry. We can stop talking and go back to what we were doing.” But his tone is deflated, and honestly his erection is almost entirely gone as well. Not that he would say no to just sex with Derek, but he had managed to convince himself that it was something more.

“Stiles. Stop. Think about it. I hate pancakes.”

“Then why did you buy pancake mix? You gonna start cooking for your betas now?”

“No, Stiles. You’re the one who loves pancakes.”

“Of course I love pancakes. Everybody loves pancakes. Pancakes are like the Danny of the food world. You’re the only weirdo I know who doesn’t like pancakes.” Derek looks at him like he’s being really dense and finally Stiles puts the pieces together. “Wait, you’re going to cook pancakes for me? As in, you’re planning to fix me breakfast tomorrow morning? As in, when you were grocery shopping last week you were already thinking about having me sleep over?”

Derek looks at him intently, hoping his eyes convey the extent of both his physical and emotional desire. “Stiles, I bought the pancake mix thinking about you six months ago.”

Stiles’ whole face lights up, then he smiles even more broadly remembering Derek’s other confession. “Wait, can we get back to the stairs thing?”

“No Stiles. No more talking.” And Derek cuts off Stiles’ cackle with a forceful kiss.

Failogue: (An epilogue of fail.)

As the sun peaks through the dirty windows, Derek untangles himself from Stiles and slips into grey athletic shorts. He leaps silently over the railing and into the kitchen to start the pancakes. Of course, when he goes to the cupboard to find the pancake mix the bag is eaten through and there are meal worms everywhere. He gets so mad that his claws come out, ripping into the bag, and the flour bursts all over covering his face and chest.

As Derek climbs back upstairs Stiles is just starting to wake up. He starts to panic at Derek’s appearance.

“What the hell happened to you? Is that mountain ash? Are you alright?”

“It’s fine. Just flour” he says. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Stiles tries not to smirk.

Derek cuts him off before he has a chance to make fun of him. “I’m going to take a shower, then we can go to Denny’s. I’ll buy you pancakes and can get myself something that I actually like.” Derek turns to head to the bathroom.

“Hey wait, I need to wash up too, I’ll come help you get it all off,” Stiles calls, jumping out of bed, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Seems like a good idea to Derek.

Further Failogue:

Except that they get so involved in cleaning his body they don’t manage to shampoo his hair right away. So the flour that’s stuck in it gets a little wet and makes this weird paste. And then Stiles is fucking him against the vanity so Derek’s forgotten all about washing and the paste dries out. So Derek is left with cement-like spikes in his hair for the rest of the day.


End file.
